Mere Seconds
by devilneedsaride
Summary: What happens when Clark is a little too late?


Title/Link: Mere Seconds  
Author: devilneedsaride  
Pairing: Clois  
Rating: PG-13  
Warnings: Angst, character death  
Spoilers: Sort of vaguely based on 8, but nothing specific  
Short summary: Futurefic, very angsty, set vaguely somewhere in late season 8. This just sort of popped into my head and I figured I'd write it.  
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I'm making no profit, etc etc, you know the drill.

***

As quickly as he'd gotten her, he'd lost her.

It wasn't something he could really put to words. All he knew was that he'd spent, what? four years? fucking around, hating her, dealing with her, fighting with her and ignoring that little spark. Ignoring what made her so special, what made her challenge him in all the right ways, what made her fit with him perfectly. Looking back, he wondered how he could ever have not loved her. And as soon as he knew, as they both knew, she was gone.

It was a long time ago that they met in that cornfield, it was a damn long time, but he'd never forget the way she hopped up, full of energy, and said her name was Lois Lane like she was announcing her presence to the world. Here I am, my name is Lois, deal with me. It was a fitting way for her to introduce herself because that's how she dealt with life. She'd burst into rooms she had no business bursting into and demand an explanation for something that wasn't her business. She'd run right into the barrel of the gun, and when the chips were down and it looked like she was done for, she'd cock her head, smile slightly, say "You're messing with the wrong girl" and kick the gun out of his hands. Sometimes she'd get herself in over her head, but he was always there to pick up the slack. She'd yell for help, or she'd call a friend, or he'd just hear her, a million miles away and he would come speeding in at the last second to save the day. Somehow he'd thought it would always be like that. Like they were untouchable. Like he was perfect.

But he wasn't, he was just him. He was Clark, and he existed in the real world. They both did. And in the real world, sometimes your best isn't good enough. Sometimes you can't save the damsel in distress. Sometimes you were just too late.

He remembered the night before it happened. When he came over to her apartment, looking for comfort or friendship or something more, although he wasn't ready to admit it yet. he'd admitted it by the end of the night though, when their nature finally took over and they'd ended up in each others arms and under the bedsheets. It was like the floodgates just opened from one moment to the next and they'd fallen together, both finally admitting what they hadn't wanted to acknowledge until then. What they'd thought they couldn't deal with. It had felt so normal, so easy, so right. Afterwards, as they lay together he'd told her about his powers, and she'd grinned and said she'd known for a long time, she was just waiting for him to trust her enough to let her in. Then he'd told her about his origins and his birthplace, and she'd stared at him for a few seconds and then burst out laughing, holding her stomach and howling. he'd been concerned for a few minutes, worried that she didn't believe him or she was an alien too or any number of insane scenarios running through his head. Finally, gasping for air, she'd managed to squeak out "Only you, farmboy, could look like a scared, innocent little puppy dog while telling me you're a superpowered alien from another planet." he'd grinned at her, and she'd patted the side of his face and kissed him, and in that moment he was the happiest he had ever been in his entire life.

Fate just didn't seem to like him, though, because the next day while he'd been grinning and rifling through the papers in his desk, thinking about his new girlfriend and how lucky he was, he'd heard it. It was faint, and far away, but it was there. Lois's voice, terrified, screaming his name. he'd whooshed out of the Daily Planet basement like he'd never done before, blowing right past what he was sure was his old speed record. he'd latched on to the sound of her heart beating, zeroed in on it like sonar. he'd stumbled and made a superpowered face plant in the ground when he heard it stop. he'd looked up, dirt caking his face, not quite understanding what it meant. The obvious reason was, of course, that she was dead. But she couldn't be dead, she was Lois and he was Clark. They were untouchable, they were the most powerful duo, there was nothing that could stop them, nothing.

he'd leapt up before he even finished that thought, and shot inside the old warehouse where he knew she'd last been. And there she was, lying slumped against the dusty concrete wall, a trail of blood marking where she fell. "No!" he'd cried out, and without even realizing what he was doing, he'd blown to her, cradling her body in his arms and pressing his hands to her chest, trying futiley to staunch the flow of blood from a heart that had already stopped beating.

The man who'de shot her had gotten way. He was standing there, still holding the smoking gun when Clark came in, but he'd run as soon as he'd seen what was coming. Clark didn't even notice him, he was too preoccupied trying to save the woman he loved. It was too late though. For the first time in his life, he was just seconds too late.

He tried everything. He took her to a hospital, he begged a favor of Jor-el, who told him it was unfortunate that the human had died this way but he had already used his ticket to save someone he loved. Clark said he would gladly give his life for her, to bring her back, but Jor-el had simply said that his destiny was greater than that and there was nothing he could do. He even tried, in his desperation, to feed her some of his blood, hoping that maybe some miracle compound in there might sew up on the giant hole in her chest and bring her back to him, smiling and wisecracking and calling him names. But there was nothing. There was nothing they could do, there was nothing he could do. She was just gone, and that was the end of it.

Years later, he'd look back, he'd remember her smile as she'd told him she loved him for the first and last time. he'd remember how she'd felt against him, in his arms, and how she'd thought it was funny, of all things, when he'd told her his biggest secret. he'd roll out of bed every morning, for the rest of his life, and look at the picture of her he kept on his bedside table, smirking at the camera with a tilted head and an expression that said "Come and get me, I'm ready for whatever you've got." He could have picked a yearbook photo, or something stupid and sentimental, but they were just fakes and this picture, taken some time when she was nineteen, captured what he really loved about her. What he missed.

Every day he would roll out of bed, look at her picture, don his suit, and set out to save the world. He couldn't save her, it was too late. He was too late. But he could save as many as he could, save person after person, woman after woman, and pretend, just for a second, that it was Lois in his arms, that he had been there on time, that he had saved her. Sometimes he would even expect her to raise her head and say "What took you so long, Smallville?", but then she didn't, because she wasn't her, she was some other woman, some other faceless woman from the crowd whose husband would grab and hug and kiss her and say thank you thank you over and over. No matter how many he saved, it was never enough. He could never bring her back, but that one moment, that one, brief moment when he had saved a life and he could imagine it was hers, that moment was all he lived for.


End file.
